


all the kids are talking slang i won’t pretend to understand

by caramelle



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (not very future-ish but well), CAN I BE ANY CLEARER THAT THIS IS STRAIGHT-UP FLUFF, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Future Fic, delinquent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:20:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6600163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelle/pseuds/caramelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You told Mo— Clarke?!" </p>
<p>Clarke arches a brow, crossing her arms over her middle. "'Maw-Clarke'?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <b>Four times the delinquents called Clarke/Bellamy ‘mom/dad’ + One time someone else did</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	all the kids are talking slang i won’t pretend to understand

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is the product of my bubbled-over excitement at having the gang back together + anticipation for seeing more of the gang back together.
> 
>  
> 
> (title from 'Photosynthesis' by Frank Turner)

 

 

 

 

 

**1.**

 

“Hey, have you seen Mom around?”

 

Clarke frowns to herself at the sound of Jasper being violently shushed by another voice. She lays aside the bottle of moonshine she’s been using to sterilise her equipment and pulls aside the heavy cloth dividing the tiny cabin into two.

 

“Hey, Jasper,” she says cautiously, glancing over at Harper where she’s packing palm-sized med kits, for travel purposes. She doesn’t feel any less concerned when she sees the way the other girl is glaring pointedly at Jasper.

 

Clarke turns back to Jasper, scrutinising his face for signs of another outburst. Granted, she didn’t think any of Jasper’s PTSD was related to his biological parents. She’s barely even heard him mention either of them in the fourteen long months they’ve been on the ground.

 

“Everything okay?” she asks slowly, eyes travelling over his frozen features. Funnily enough, the boy’s widened eyes don’t appear _unhinged_ so much as just _surprised_.

 

“What?” he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he casts a furtive glance at Harper. “No, I didn’t say— huh?”

 

The crease between Clarke’s brows deepens as she watches the lanky boy bounce discomfortingly on the balls of his feet. “Are you… looking for someone?”

 

“Nope,” Jasper replies instantly, eyes snapping to hers alertly. “Bye!”

 

He spins on his heel abruptly, takes one step towards the exit and sharply pivots back around.

 

“By the way, Raven wants to know if she should set up the lights for the perimeter or the campfire area first,” Jasper rushes out in a single breath.

 

Clarke nods slowly, slightly caught off guard. “Oh. Um, tell her to go ahead and start on the perimeter. Everywhere else can manage with firelight for one more night.”

 

“Okay, sure thing!” Jasper all but yells at her, disappearing from the cabin before she’s barely finished her sentence.

 

Clarke turns to raise a brow at Harper. “Did Jasper seem… weird to you?” she asks.

 

Harper shrugs, her expression perfectly neutral. “Not any more than usual,” she replies, returning to her work.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**2.**

 

Miller slides his half-full magazine back into the breech of his rifle, frowning at the younger boy shifting nervously on his feet five feet away.

 

“Hey,” he says, putting his safety on as he comes up to the other kid. “Lucas, right?”

 

The boy nods warily, tufts of sandy brown hair bouncing on his head with the motion.

 

“First hunting trip?” Miller asks, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

 

Lucas’s eyes dart to the side before coming back to meet Miller’s gaze. He nods again, shifting his gun in his arms so it’s tucked closer to him.

 

Miller scans the boy’s pale features for half a second before smiling warmly.

 

“Checked your mag?” The boy thinks, and nods.

 

“Got your knife?” The boy glances down to his belt, and nods again.

 

“Compass?” The boy’s eyes flick down to the other side of his belt. Another nod.

 

“Then you’re good to go,” Miller tells him, nudging him with a friendly elbow. “Loosen up, man. Whatever’s out there is probably just as scared of you as you are of it.” He leans in, winking encouragingly. “Only difference is, you’re not ending up on anybody’s dinner table tonight.”

 

“How do you know?” Lucas asks, finally lifting his wide eyes.

 

Miller shrugs, grinning. “Because Dad won’t let that happen.” He nods emphatically, making sure to hold the younger boy’s gaze intently. “Promise.”

 

Lucas’s wide blue eyes search Miller’s face for a long second. Finally, seemingly reassured by the confidence and encouragement he finds there, he nods one last time, returning Miller’s grin with a tentative smile.

 

“Alright, guys, let’s move!” Bellamy calls, striding up to them purposefully. He shoulders his own rifle, looking about with a frown. “Where the hell is— Octavia!” He shakes his head at his approaching sister as his hands tuck a large knife into his belt with practiced ease. “Come on, O, if you’re gonna be late all the time—”

 

“Shut up, you only _just_ got here,” Octavia retorts, slinging her machete over her head. “I _saw_ you.”

 

Bellamy grins, turning back to the rest of his party. “Alright, listen up. Stick to the route, eyes and ears open at all times. Morgan,” he says to a fierce-looking girl, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail — a relatively seasoned hunter after repeated training sessions and expeditions. “You’re with Miller. Lucas,” he says, eyes landing on the knobby-kneed boy, the youngest addition to the camp’s small but growing team of huntsmen. “Stay close to me, got it?” He waits for the boy’s attentive nod, giving him an approving once-over before turning back to his sister. “Lead the way.”

 

They take off at a brisk walk, the Blakes heading the small pack out of camp and into the woods. Lucas makes sure to keep Bellamy’s shoulder two feet in front of his nose the whole way through.

 

Four hours later, they return with their bloody prize, and Lucas glows with delight when Bellamy praises him for spotting the deer.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**3.**

 

Clarke curses under her breath as she surveys the smoking mess that half the workshop has been reduced to.

 

“Jasper,” she says, her tone measured. “Monty.”

 

Both boys stare at her, eyes widened in terror.

 

“What the _fuck_ ,” she continues, enunciating each word carefully, “just happened here.”

 

“It was Jasper’s idea,” Monty suddenly says, jabbing a thumb at the other boy.

 

Jasper’s head whips to his best friend, mouth falling open in disbelief. “Traitor,” he breathes accusatorily.

 

Raven ducks into the hut, casting an unimpressed glance over at both culprits. “Told you,” she says to Clarke with a roll of her eyes.

 

“What the hell, Reyes!” Jasper exclaims, voice climbing higher in agitation.

 

“You _told_ Mo— Clarke?!”

 

Too late.

 

Clarke arches a brow, crossing her arms over her middle. “Maw-Clarke?” she asks Monty, whose ears have flushed tomato red.

 

Jasper suddenly becomes very interested in the chunky, charred remains of the wall to his left.

 

Clarke taps her foot impatiently twice, exhaling deeply. “Okay. Both of you,” she points at the two boys, eyes narrowing, “are fixing this. All of this. And while you’re doing that, Raven will use your cabin for her work instead.”

 

“Say _what_?!” Jasper exclaims.

 

Monty’s brows shoot up into his hairline. “Where are _we_ going to sleep, then!”

 

Clarke lifts an acerbic brow. “Here.”

 

“Wha—”

 

“No fair!”

 

“We weren’t _trying_ —”

 

“ _Ugh!_ ”

 

Clarke lifts a hand to quiet their protests. “Consider it motivation to get a move on with that roof.” She glances up deliberately. “I’d hurry if I were you. Bellamy says rainy season’s just around the corner.”

 

“Ha- _ha_!” Raven crows triumphantly beside her. “Take _that_ , suckers! Mom ain’t takin’ your _shit_ no more!”

 

A silence suddenly descends on the half-destroyed workshop.

 

Raven glances at Clarke, offering up a cheeky half-grin. “I mean… ‘Go, Clarke’?”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**4.**

 

“Bellamy?”

 

He turns, surprised to see Harper looking up at him determinedly. “Hey, what’s up?”

 

“Can I ask you something?” she says, jaw clenching resolutely.

 

He looks her up and down questioningly before giving her a short nod.

 

“I know I’m not supposed to go on hunting trips for another week,” Harper says, meeting his gaze in a manner that’s ever so slightly left of aggressive. “But seriously, my hand feels completely fine now.” She raises the arm in question, flexing her fingers in demonstration.

 

“Okay,” he says slowly. “That’s great.”

 

Harper presses her lips together, clearly trying to maintain her composure. “I asked Clarke if I could rejoin the outings, but she said she’d rather not risk another injury. She says another sprain would probably make it even worse, but honestly—” she shifts her weight agitatedly, “—I feel _fine_. My hand’s totally back to normal by now, see?” She waves the appendage in question for further emphasis, almost swatting Bellamy’s nose with the motion.

 

“Okay,” Bellamy says, taking half a step back guardedly. “What do you want me to do about it?”

 

Harper sighs sharply, folding her arms obstinately. “Could you talk to Clarke? Get her to give me the green light again?”

 

Bellamy raises a brow, half-shaking his head as he brings his hands up to rest on his hips. “Harper, uh, I don't—”

 

“ _Please_ , Bellamy,” Harper implores, leaning forward earnestly. “You said it yourself — we won’t have as many chances to find food when the rains hit. I can _help_.” She exhales sharply, rocking back and forth on her feet. “Plus, I’m going out of my _mind_ , stuck in camp all day.” She holds Bellamy’s gaze, insistently pleading.

 

Bellamy takes a deep breath, considering her words. Finally, he sighs.

 

“Okay, alright, I’ll _talk_ to her. _But_ —” he adds, holding up a warning finger to halt her premature celebration jig. “You have to give Clarke one last look-see, okay? She gets last word.”

 

“Fine, sure,” Harper agrees almost laughingly, all traces of frustration completely dissolving from her demeanour. She grins as she starts to move past Bellamy, clapping a grateful hand onto Bellamy’s shoulder. “Thanks, Dad!”

 

She trudges away merrily, seemingly oblivious to the way Bellamy’s jaw goes completely slack as he does a double take at her, blinking at her departing back in confusion and bewilderment.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**+1.**

 

Clarke plods wearily into the hut, already shucking off her jacket before she can even get the door closed behind her.

 

“Long day?” Bellamy asks from the pallet, a yellowed old tome propped up on his lap.

 

She sighs, quickly shrugging out of her top and into the long-sleeved shirt she tries to save for sleeping purposes only. “Longer than usual. Had to re-sort almost all the herbs. Riley got a little mixed up yesterday while we were out of camp.”

 

“She did a great job stitching Bryan up though,” Bellamy says, peering down at the brittle pages. “Seriously. I saw his arm when we got back and nearly forgot it wasn’t you.”

 

Clarke laughs, sinking onto the bed to tug her boots off. “Oh yeah, she’s a natural. Just not so much when it comes to organisation.”

 

“She’s learning,” Bellamy observes, turning a page with a soft rustle.

 

“They all are,” Clarke agrees, standing to remove her pants. “But they need to be ready. We leave in less than a week.”

 

“Only for a few days. Raven and Harper will be here,” Bellamy remarks as she lays her clothing on a nearby stool. “And Jasper.”

 

“I’m worried that’s gonna be more of a hindrance than a help,” she quips dryly, climbing into bed as Bellamy chuckles. She snuggles into his side, her eyes falling shut as she sighs in exhausted contentment.

 

Bellamy’s arm curls around her, and they lie in companionable silence for a few moments, listening to each other breathe.

 

“By the way,” she starts conversationally, sliding an arm over his torso. “Did you refer to me as ‘Mom’ in front of your entire training group today?”

 

He instantly groans, the book falling to his side. “Who told you?”

 

“Miller,” she says, cracking an eye open to grin up at him. “He was very excited.”

 

Bellamy sighs exasperatedly, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “It was an _accident_.”

 

“I’m sure it was,” Clarke assents, straight-faced despite the twinkle of amusement in her gaze.

 

“Look,” Bellamy says, pushing himself upright. “It’s not my fault, okay? They’re the ones who’ve been at it for _weeks_ now. I can’t help it if I keep hearing it day in and day out. Shit, it’s just science, right? It’s— it’s fucking _osmosis_.”

 

“Wow,” Clarke comments, cocking her head. “Someone’s been paying attention to Monty.”

 

“Thank you,” he says, one hand held out graciously.

 

“But since we’re on the subject,” Clarke continues, smiling indulgently. “You do realise they’ve been at it for a little longer than a few weeks, right?”

 

“How long are we talking?” Bellamy asks, eyes widening — half horrified, half incredulous.

 

“Since we left Arkadia.”

 

Bellamy’s jaw drops. “Four _months_?!”

 

Clarke shrugs, propping her head up on one hand. “Apparently it started with Miller and the others. It got around pretty quickly, mostly thanks to Jasper—” she scoffs fondly, “— _big_ surprise. By the time we moved into the cabin, almost everyone was doing it behind our backs. According to Raven, that is.” She wrinkles her nose in consideration. “In this case, I think it’s safe to trust her judgment.”

 

Bellamy’s mouth opens and closes. “Are you kidding me? I’ve never even _heard_ this shit until like two weeks ago!”

 

“Three for me,” Clarke muses. She pushes herself upright, brows furrowing together thoughtfully. “You gotta admit — it’s actually kind of _impressive_ , isn’t it? All that time, they actually managed to hide it from both of us. Even the younger ones.”

 

“It’s kind of _psychotic_ is what it is,” Bellamy replies, brows lifting sardonically. “We’re not their _parents_.”

 

“Not by blood,” Clarke says, smiling.

 

“Fine,” Bellamy relents grudgingly, collapsing back onto the pallet. “But I’m drawing the fucking line at ‘Daddy’. I don’t care who tries it. I’m not even _twenty-five_ , princess. I’m no one’s _daddy_.”

 

“Whatever you say, Bell,” she says, pressing her smile into his chest. “Whatever you say.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> THE DELINQUENTS BACK TOGETHER IS ALL I EVER WANT IN LIFE.
> 
> thank you for reading, as always! thanking you for kudos if you've left some, and thanking you again for comments because they make me smile wider than fat albert's waist circumference.


End file.
